


The Bar

by oberynmartell



Category: True Detective
Genre: Gen, True Detective - Freeform, not really - Freeform, rust/marty kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oberynmartell/pseuds/oberynmartell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marty realises Rust is bisexual when he sees him eyeing up another guy in a bar. Short one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bar

It was the regular scene.

They’d been in a ton of dives like this one before, would doubtless be again; floors thick with grime and spilled booze, the smell of drunks and piss and smoke low and dense in the air like a veil, gravelled music churning out of a juke box, turned down quiet so only the steady bass could be heard clearly. Men hung in groups around the bar, clustered round tables, gathered in loud drunken conversations. A few women, none looking too comfortable, hung of the arms of guys or wandered around catching eyes where they passed.

It was loud enough in the bar to warrant Marty’s raised voice as he spoke to his partner… disguised the fact he was half-pissed already.

“Where we go from here, huh? We got two leads… I dunno’ which to check out first” He said to the detective opposite him, stabbing at the two pieces of paper on the table and downing the last of his third beer.

Rust was sat back in his seat rolling his tongue over his teeth and watching an empty space just to the left of Marty’s head with the same tired, half-lidded eyes he looked at every goddamn thing with. He let the question hang in the question between them for a second, long enough for Marty to feel the first pang of irritation, before he answered.

“We check the whorehouse first. Ask ‘round for directions”

Marty gave a huff and raised an eyebrow.

“You think guys’ll just tell you ‘bout a whorehouse? You gotta’ be kidding me…”

Rust’s eyes slid from the empty space and looked at Marty. He sighed deep and long like having to explain stuff to Marty was the bane of his existence.

“They don’ talk, then we get them to talk” He drawled, resting a hand in his hair.

Marty gave him a look before he turned in his seat, leather rasping under him, and got up.

“I’m getting another drink… You want anythin’?”

Rust shook his head and it was enough of a reminder - don’t ask Rust if he wants booze.

“You sure you should have another?” He murmured, a shadow passing across his eyes.

“Fuck you, man” Marty growled, heading to the bar without looking back.

The barmaid was like them all: bottle-blonde, all breasts and slim legs, a face plastered in makeup and a short skirt hoisted almost to her waist. She gave a Marty a tight smile as he slapped some dollars down on the table and ordered, and as she leaned over the bar he did nothing to hide his looking. He knew her type, they got it all the time – 24 hour, same smile for every man as long as they were handing over money.

As he headed back from the bar, new glass of beer cooling the palm of his hand, he caught sight of Rust from across the room. Cohle was still lounging in his chair but his gaze was fixed – gone was the half-lidded look, replaced with an expression Marty had never really seen on him before. He followed his gaze across the bar to a group of men all gathered around a pool table. They were fairly young guys, all muscle and drunken laughter. Marty’s hand found the gun in his pocket and held it there, not pulling it out. Did Rust know them? And if so, were they dangerous?

He slipped into the crowds instead of making a bee-line for the table, unsure whether to back Cohle up or give the men a false sense of security in thinking there was only one cop present. From behind a group of people Marty watched and realised that none of the men were paying Rust any mind, save one young man on the edge of the group. He was dressed in an old leather jacket, dark jeans and boots, his hair was thick and blonde, messy from the road's harsh and dusty winds.

It was only then that Marty put two and two together. It wasn’t fear or caution on Rust’s face, it was interest, and a specific type at that.

The blonde biker turned and put his back to the table, lifting a bottle to his lips he caught Rust’s gaze and held it. Marty knew what that type of exchange was, he had been on the end of one enough times himself, had given plenty of looks too.

“ _Well shit”_ Marty chuckled, heading back to the table as he first intended. He sat down deliberately loud, dropping his beer down on the table with a thud. Rust jumped a little – _visibly_ jumped – and quickly diverted his eyes, looking down at the floor instead.

"You okay, Rust? You look a lil funny" He asked, watching with delight the discomfort on his partner's face.

"m’fine" Rust replied, blinking slowly.

“You know that guy over there?” Marty asked, making a point of turning around and jabbing a thumb in the young man’s direction.

“I dun’ know anyone here” Cohle replied, his usual expression back. But Marty wasn’t going to let it slide.

"Then why were you lookin' at him like that, huh?" He asked, and it was impossible not to grin when Rust _squirmed_ the way he did.

"Fuck off man, alright" Cohle retorted, fishing out a cigarette to busy his hands.

"No shit man, are you kiddin' me?!" Marty hollered "You like dudes?"

Rust placed the cigarette between his lips and looked everywhere but into Marty's eyes, fingers drumming irritably on the table.

"Nah man it's not-"

"You're a sissy?!"

The slur struck a chord with Rust, as his open palm on the table curled into a fist, his eyes snapping up to meet Marty’s.

"I prefer women, okay" Cohle said, irritation bubbling in his eyes. Marty didn’t have much tact when it came to Rust, but he knew when to back off a little.

"Okay, okay... Jesus man" He murmured, raising his palms to show his sincerity.

“What difference does it make, huh?” Rust shrugged “We’re all the same elements fused together to make what _we_ call human beings. Gender’s a construct we invented to categorise our existence”

“Alright alright I get it… you don’ have to go into that heavy shit to explain yourself” Marty sighed “I ‘aint got no prejudice”

Rust gave him a look that said ‘ _I doubt that’_ and looked back at the blonde. The man was slowly making his way over to their table, leaving his friends behind. Marty hid behind his beer as he approached.

“Hey there… get you a drink?” The man asked with a dazzling smile that bled confidence. Rust’s interest seemed to fade at the sound of his voice. It gave away his age as younger than he looked, and the confidence was more of arrogance. Marty set his beer down slowly and stretched his hand across the table, taking Rust’s hand in his. Rust flinched at the touch but Marty’s intention must have become clear, because he didn’t pull away.

“He’s taken, punk” Marty said to the young man, who seemed to shrivel at the threat in Marty’s voice.

“Jeez, fuck you man” He huffed, and with a shake of his head he walked away back to his friends. The minute his back was turned Rust pulled his hand away.

“Easy to understand why I prefer women” He drawled, taking a drag from his cigarette “Most men are pieces of shit, sure know we are”

“You’re welcome” Marty coughed, placing his hand back on his knee. There was a stretch of silence in which Rust smoked and Marty drank, the activities of the bar still rotating around them, but somehow seeming further away.

“Thanks” Rust murmured, barely loud enough for Marty to hear. Marty wouldn’t have expected it any other way.


End file.
